


The Dunes of Your Body

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Desert, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Sex, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, sex in a tent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: Sasori and the man who will become the Third Kazekage are travelling through the desert, returning to Suna after the successful completion of a mission.But the night is cold, and Sasori and Melih need to find a way to warm up...





	The Dunes of Your Body

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my little offering for an informal SasoThird exchange that myself and some lovely friends have been running!
> 
> I hope you will all like the name I made for the Third, as well as the hints of his backstory! I also introduced his mama (what is it about me making all the Naruto boys/men mama's boys?)
> 
> I base a lot of Sunan culture and cuisine on middle eastern, especially Turkey after I had a lovely holiday there about a month ago. :)
> 
> A very special thank you to my lovely friend Kitty, aka ShipCat, who read along as I wrote and kindly offered thoughts and suggestions to make this story even better ;) and for reading along while I wrote up my hcs for Melih, and his backstory! I love you <3
> 
> To my giftee...I hope you love this as much as I loved writing this! <3

Melih’s large footsteps padded across the sand, a light breeze whipping up a storm across his ankles, while a cloth shielded his nose and mouth from the elements. His water bottle clunked at his side, and in the silence, he allowed his thoughts to wander.

Back in Suna, Emrah would be shaping little balls of  _ kofte _ and mixing spices, so that his favourite meal would be ready to lay upon the table for his return. Melih always visited his mama when he returned from a mission. Always. He didn’t care that a routine made him predictable, which made him an easier target. Emrah was his  _ mama _ .

And Melih cared very little if someone jumped him. Rumours whispered, and Melih knew that he was the top candidate to be the third kazekage, should another assassins knife touch the throat of the second.

With Melih’s skillset, there was little to fear.

To his right, smaller, swifter and lighter footsteps padded across the sand. Melih slipped a glance sideways at his companion, a bob of red hair dancing up and down above the rippling sand. Scrolls swung from his hips, hitched up on his back, each of them filled to the brim with his choice of weapon.

Puppets.

Melih liked Sasori.

He liked the way Sasori’s head barely came up to his chest, and sometimes wanted to lay his palm against Sasori’s, to admire the difference in the size of their palms. Whenever he saw Sasori unravel a scroll, he couldn’t help but notice his artist hands, the smooth elegant fingers, that developed creation upon creation, for the purpose of painting the sand red.

“It will be dusk soon,” said Sasori, as they trekked through a pathway of two dunes of sand. The sun had begun to weigh heavily in the sky, and the brilliant bright light had taken on a deeper yellow tinge.

“We should keep moving until then. It’ll be easier to move when it’s cooler,” replied Melih. The sand glowed a golden hue from the sunlight, and he squinted, his yellow eyes narrowing.

“We need time to set up camp,” said Sasori. “And we can’t do that too late. It will be freezing at night.”

Melih cleared his throat. “I want us to be in Suna tomorrow.”

“Why the haste?”

“I thought you didn’t like to wait,” stated Melih.

“I don’t,” retorted Sasori. “But they aren’t expecting us until the day after tomorrow.”

“Why not be early?”

“There is nothing for me in Suna,” admitted Sasori. “Everything that I am, everything that I have, is right here.”

Melih glanced around. “There is nothing here but sand and rocks.”

“I have my puppets here,” retorted Sasori. “And you too are here.”

Melih let the words sink in. He wanted to ask about Sasori’s grandmother, but thought better not to. If anything, he saw Sasori’s grandmother more often than Sasori did, in her seat on the Suna council. He remembered as a boy, whenever whatever childhood ailment had plagued him, that his mother would fetch Granny Chiyo to cool a fever, clean a scraped knee, soothe away an aching throat. His mother knew that Granny Chiyo would never say no to helping a young, promising shinobi.

Melih glanced at his compass and the position of the sun in the sky. They were on track.

Several hours later, Sasori came to a halt.

“Here,” he said. “We should stop here.”

They were nestled at the peak of a dune, and there was a cactus nearby. Melih knew that if he sliced the cactus they would have a supply of water, and there was activity in the evenings when the sandhares darted about. They could kill one for supper.

Sasori unsealed their tent from one of his scrolls, and Melih helped him stake the strings in the ground to prop it upright. He left Sasori to unpack their supplies, while he slipped off his shoes and his robes, and slipped quietly across the sand.

_ There _ .

A scamper of paws, and then Melih’s kunai swiftly struck the sandhare.

The creature fell to the ground, and Melih walked over, less quietly now, scooping it up by the hindlegs. There was a lot of meat on this hare’s bones, plenty for him and Sasori. Melih had a large appetite, and wondered if Sasori did too.

Sasori had set their kindling to fire, and built a stake above the growing flames. Melih sat opposite Sasori, skinning the hare, and then sealing the pelt away.

It would make a lovely hat or a soft cushion for Emrah, he decided.

Melih penetrated the hare with a stick, before setting it above the fire. He turned it in a steady circle, warming the meat.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he stated to Sasori.

Sasori licked his lips. “I am.”

As the sun lowered, the light of the fire warmed Sasori’s features and highlighted his red hair. Melih glanced at the range of colours, and knew that the artistic Sasori would have a much better way to describe his appearance. He wondered what Sasori thought of how he looked, his calm expression and dark navy hair falling loose from his top knot as he turned the hare over.

Sasori sat cross-legged, his muscled thighs lightly pressing against his shinobi uniform trousers. Melih swallowed and licked his lips, turning the hare yet again. Sasori made no effort to hide his stare, as they sat beneath the darkening sky.

Something seemed to thrum in the air. Melih’s ears pricked, but this was nothing in the atmosphere or an intruder sneaking up upon them. All that thrummed was between him and Sasori.

Melih turned the hare, wondering what to say, if he should say anything. He glanced back over at Sasori, at the messy red hair falling over his eyes. He’d always wanted to touch it, to feel the lovely red strands slip between his fingers. He wondered if Sasori would say yes if he asked.

The hare had taken on a deep, golden brown colour, and the meat released a rich, heady scent. Melih sniffed, and his stomach gave a loud growl. Sasori laughed softly. Melih hadn’t heard Sasori laugh properly before. He realised that he liked the sound.

“This is almost done,” said Melih. “What bit do you want?”

“Any bit you’ll give to me,” replied Sasori.

Melih watched Sasori climb upright, and walk over the cactus. He sliced open one of the arms, and let the droplets of water fall into his flask. Melih sliced a section of the hare open, noticing that the meat was steaming and hot. He made a noise of contentment that it was safe to eat, lifted it from the spit, and laid it out on the cooling embers of the fire. The first chilled wind of the evening rushed past, and Melih felt it ruffle his navy blue hair, and kiss down the back of his neck.

He and Sasori settled down to eat, with Sasori offering Melih the flask.

“It’s not poison, is it?” asked Melih.

Sasori wrinkled his nose. “You have literally watched me fetch the water from a natural, native cactus, and sip it myself.”

“Just checking,” replied Melih, as he sipped. He had seen enough of Sasori’s poison victims on their mission. “Sasori of the  _ Red Sand _ .”

He offered Sasori a slice of the breast meat from the hare, the juiciest part, speared on his kunai. Sasori bit the tender meat from the knife, tugging it away from the kunai with his teeth, tongue curling around the meat.

Melih ate his slice with his fingers.

“It’s good,” said Sasori.

It wasn’t quite Emrah’s  _ kofte _ , but Melih had to admit, having trekked across the desert with little supplies, and exhausted from their duties, it was good.

Once the hare was polished off, between them, Melih tidied up the spit, putting out the fire. The chill had set in, but the smoke would potentially attract unwanted visitors. Melih knew that he and Sasori would have no problem sending them on their way, but he was tired, and couldn’t be bothered to deal with the inconvenience. He wanted to lie down in the depths of their tent, and listen to Sasori’s breathing as they fell asleep.

Sasori pulled off his sandals, and disappeared inside the tent. Once Melih had finished covering the fire with sand, he crawled inside, to discover Sasori tugging off his flak jacket and slipping off his trousers.

“What are you doing?” asked Melih.

“Stripping,” retorted Sasori.

“Is this the part where you perform the dance of seven veils?” asked Melih, thinking back to the nights Emrah would slip out, thinking he had not seen her.

“No,” retorted Sasori. “It means that the warmth of the blankets will insulate me better. You should know this.”

“Speaking of which,” said Melih, glancing at the set-up of their blankets. “Why is there only one bed?”

“Two blankets are more effective than one, and we can share body heat,” said Sasori, sliding beneath the blankets in a loose vest and undies.

Melih undressed, removing his shirt, his trousers, until he was in nothing more than his vest and undies. He glanced at Sasori, burrowing his way beneath the blankets, while gazing up at Melih with his half-lidded grey-brown eyes, and then pulled his vest off.

“You’re right, Sasori, my lovers tell me that I’m like a human heater,” said Melih, confidently tossing his vest aside.

Sasori froze still.

“Oh,” said Melih, tucking himself under the blankets next to Sasori. “I never asked. Have you ever had a lover?”

Sasori was turning red, to match his hair.

“I have,” said Melih, rolling onto his side, to better enjoy the view of the flustered Sasori. “A few. Girls...and boys.”

Sasori’s fingers entwined with a stray thread on the blanket. “Boys,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” said Melih, tucking his head under one arm. “You’re not going to judge me, are you?”

“I could never judge you,” said Sasori quietly.

“Do you like me, Sasori?” asked Melih. “I like you.”

The question had been asked on impulse. Melih knew that as a shinobi it would hinder him in his duties if he had a significant other, although there was no dissuading against him and the other male shinobi against having casual lovers.

It was strange, Melih suddenly realised. He was expected not to love or form attachments, yet those of the Kazekage clan were pressured to produce children to succeed to the title. How was Melih supposed to start a dynasty if he could not love someone and have a child with them? He didn’t like the idea of marrying a stranger whom he could not trust and using them merely for reproductive purposes. That would make them all the more likely to betray him, would they not?

Sasori’s cheeks were burning crimson. He stared ahead, at the roof of the tent. Another blast of wind shook the fabric walls. Melih inched himself closer, feeling the warmth of Sasori’s embarrassment under the covers. It would be nice, he thought to himself, to hold Sasori close, to compare the difference in the size of their hands, while warming their chilling limbs against one another’s.

“I like you,” admitted Sasori. “I think about you. A lot.”

Melih’s hand drifted across, reaching for Sasori’s. Sasori took the hint, rolling over to face Melih, closing the distance between them, and pressing his palm against Melih’s. Sasori’s fingers barely reached the second joint leading up to the tip of Melih’s fingers. The pads of his fingers were pointed and elegant, perfect for commanding his army of puppets. His nails were smooth and filed down to round crescents, short and practical for work, yet smooth so as not to snag his precious prizes.

Melih smiled, letting his hand fold over Sasori’s, holding him. His hands were broader than Sasori’s, but he carried muscle behind his palms. His fingers were slightly bonier than the rest of his hand, but even so, he was still larger than Sasori.

Sasori’s thumb landed on top of Melih’s, pressing down hard. Melih immediately freed it, before pressing his thumb back down on Sasori’s. A small war of dominance with their thumbs played out, until Melih grew tired and decided to speed things along a bit. Sasori had told him he did not like to wait, didn’t he?

He pulled Sasori’s hand closer to his, and kissed the back of the knuckles, rubbing warmth into it.

As the next blast of wind struck the side of the tent, Melih didn’t even notice, pulling Sasori closer. Sasori helped, shuffling across the last few inches, before he fell into Melih’s arms. Melih wrapped the wide span of his arms around Sasori’s smaller shoulders, and then fell into kissing him at once. Sasori’s lips were red, everything about him was red. Melih’s hands roamed up his back, entwining into his hair, the hair that he had so badly wanted to stroke. His lips felt cushioned beneath Melih’s, dainty and defined. Sasori’s tongue was small and pointy, darting between Melih’s lips, touching the tip of Melih’s tongue. He tasted of roasted sandhare, refreshing cactus water, and his own unique Sasori taste.

Small, greedy sounds of contentment echoed from the back of their throats. Melih threw one leg over Sasori’s waist, straddling him. His chest pressed against Sasori’s, so that their hearts beat together. Melih felt Sasori quivering in his arms, and yet the smaller man lifted his leg over Melih’s, tucking it firmly around, so that Sasori could playfully run his foot along Melih’s buttocks.

“I want…” Sasori gasped against Melih’s kisses. “I want…”

“Yes?” asked Melih.

Sasori’s grey-brown eyes, usually lidded with boredom or dreaminess, Melih could never tell, were wide open. He ran a single finger down Melih’s spine. “I want to possess you.”

Melih shivered. In the small break between their kisses, something seemed to have returned to him. His senses? He realised that he and Sasori, two elite Suna shinobi, were alone, in a tent, and they were fooling around  _ kissing _ . They ought to have been sleeping, resting for the final leg of the return journey tomorrow. Emrah would be waiting,  _ kofte  _ in the oven, for her beloved only son, her pride and joy, and here he and Sasori were. Kissing.

Disregarding all notion of professional behaviour that was becoming of shinobi.

They were kissing.

He, the highest candidate for the title of the Third Kazekage, and Sasori, the Head of the Puppet Corps.

Melih leant back down, putting his head on Sasori’s chest, his ear over Sasori’s heartbeat. It was Sasori’s turn to comb through his navy hair, tugging free his top knot that tied back most of the weight of his hair. Melih felt his hair spill across Sasori’s shoulders and biceps, and Sasori’s hands running through.

“You feel so good on top of me,” admitted Sasori.

Melih gazed at the fabric of Sasori’s vest. It was a loose cotton, and he could see the press of Sasori’s nipple lightly protruding through. Sasori’s nipples were red, with a small teat, compared to Melih’s dusky brown.

Melih nuzzled closer, and lightly bit down on the small teat through the vest.

He watched as Sasori’s usually bored or dreamy expression contorted with pleasure and pain. Sasori struggled upright, as if he wanted to get out of his vest. Melih sat up, and reached down, helpfully lifting the hem. Sasori’s stomach was flat, like a plane of sand. He didn’t have the muscle definition bulging against his skin like Melih did, but as he ran his fingers across the silky smooth skin, he felt Sasori’s hidden strength beneath it.

Melih tweaked each of Sasori’s red nipples, watching them grow taut with interest. Sasori had propped himself up on his hands, and his arms bent, growing slack.

“Want these off too?” asked Melih, lightly tugging at Sasori’s undies.

Sasori nodded, lying back down on the pile of blankets, his hair falling across the pillows, eyes lidding, waiting for Melih.

Melih decided he would surprise him. He dug his thumbs in the waistband on his own undies, and tugged them down, revealing the growing erection that had been building since the moment Melih slipped beneath the blankets. It was always going to come to this. Sasori wanted to possess him? Well, Melih was a possessed man now. He would not leave this tent or return to Suna without having had his way with Sasori. Shinobi conduct be damned. Melih had spent years and years of life conforming, and before they placed that kazekage hat on his head, he would have this.

Sasori swallowed.

_ Was this nerves?  _ Melih asked himself, as he reached for Sasori’s undies.

Sasori parted his legs for Melih, knees bent, so that they looked like two dunes of sand. His arms curling into the pillow behind his head, clutching the small decorative tassels with his fingers, head tilted back, waiting for Melih to make his move.

Melih pulled down the undies. Sasori’s hair down there was just as red as the hair on his head, lying in a cluster beneath the base of his manhood. It was thinner and sparser than the dark thatch of navy hair that began in a felted triangle from below Melih’s belly button.

Sasori was already hard, the reddened tip of his manhood pointing towards Melih, telling him that he wanted him. Like most Sunan baby boys, Sasori had had his foreskin removed shortly after his birth. His balls were round and shapely, nuzzling behind his manhood, drawing closer to his body with his arousal.

Melih pressed a kiss to Sasori’s inner thigh, before glancing up from between his legs, his torso emerging between the dunes. Sasori was completely and utterly relaxed, pliant in Melih’s arms, allowing Melih to drink the sight of him all in like a precious oasis.

“Your skin is so soft,” said Melih, pressing another kiss, this time closer to Sasori’s groin.

“Your hands are warm,” added Sasori. “And your lips...they’re so soft too.”

Melih kissed further up, wondering how this was going to work. There were in the desert, with no access to lubricant. He couldn’t take Sasori raw, and he knew Sasori would hate it.

Perhaps he and Sasori could pleasure each other with their mouths? Melih wanted to be close to Sasori, to feel his body beneath his, and so friction and rubbing would have to be the way.

Melih sat up, and reached for his own erection. He was thicker and girthier than Sasori, and longer, too. The skin was darker than the rest of his body, as it swelled with arousal. He too, as a baby, had had his foreskin removed, so that the tip protruded towards Sasori, a small bead forming just at the tip. Melih gave himself an indulgent stroke, soothing away the growing fire in his loins, until he could thrust against Sasori’s body.

Sasori exhaled deeply, and rocked his hips upwards, against Melih’s.

“You’re so cute, Sasori,” said Melih, releasing himself and reaching for Sasori’s manhood instead. He wrapped his entire hand around the girth, realising that his fingers could almost wrap around twice.

Sasori scowled. “I’m not  _ cute _ .”

“You are cute,” repeated Melih, admiring the silky sensation of the red hair. His own hair was coarse and wiry. “Especially your little dick. So, so cute,” he teased.

“It’s  _ proportional _ ,” retorted Sasori. “Any bigger and it would look stupid.”

“ _ I _ like it,” said Melih, giving it a light stroke. Sasori exhaled deeply again, those lidded eyes rolling back. “It’s perfect. Just like the rest of you.”

Melih tugged it upright, stroking Sasori’s manhood against his own, the feel of the hardness against his hardness incredibly gratifying. A sense of closeness settled over him, and he knew that any doubts surrounding their status of shinobi elite, any sensation of desert night chill, were long gone from his mind. His thumb reached out, and wrapped both of them in his hand span. He lightly thrust his hips in time, setting a steady rhythm. Sasori’s rose red nipples heaved on his chest, and his hips began to roll, following the pace that Melih set.

“You definitely want to do this?” asked Melih, even as he stroked Sasori’s bare dick in his hands.

Sasori rolled his eyes dramatically, the red lashes fluttering. Melih had never seen anyone with red lashes to match their hair before. “Yes. Get on with it.”

In Suna, Melih had the thought that he would invite Sasori to tea one evening. Perhaps he’d ask Emrah for the recipe for one of his favourite meals, and wine and dine Sasori, before taking him to bed. He’d purchase sweet, fragrant oil, and make Sasori nice and wet, before slipping inside of him properly, if that was what Sasori wished. Melih liked the thought of Sasori swallowed inside of his large bed, the covers drawn up to his chin, snuggling in the warmth as Melih brought him sweet tea or bitter coffee for breakfast.

Melih released their manhoods, and then thrust between Sasori’s thighs. Sasori’s thighs were firm and supple, and supported Melih as he bent over, kissing Sasori as he pushed his body back against the blankets, and then they were both rolling their hips together, manhoods jostling.

The mere contact of each other’s skin against their erections sent waves of pleasure shooting through their loins. Melih let his kisses roam everywhere, over Sasori’s lips, his chin, his cheeks, down his jaw and his neck, and even his ear. He felt Sasori’s hands grip his shoulders for dear life, his thighs lifting as he wrapped his legs around Melih’s waist, the rolling of their hips switching to a faster, harder rocking motion.

Sasori’s breaths were little puffs against Melih’s ear. Melih knew that his grunts were basal, primal, and they seemed to arouse Sasori further. His back arched and reared up, pulling Melih down with him again, trying to press every centimetre of skin they had together.

“I am possessed,” muttered Melih, between his grunts.

Sasori licked his lips. “I thought you would be.”

His words were carried away as they continued to thrust, and Melih knew he couldn’t last much longer. Days spent with Sasori at his side, knowing they couldn’t touch, not like this, but now they had this opportunity, this moment, this night, to express everything they harboured inside one another secretly down to the bone, and it was getting too much.

Melih knew he was going to shoot and cover Sasori’s lower belly with his release. He wondered if Sasori would like it.

Sasori’s puffs of air became louder cries, his usually dreamy expression was contorted in concentration, and Melih didn’t think that Sasori would last much longer either. Beads of sweat trickled down Melih’s spine, as he redoubled his efforts.

The atmosphere in the tent was warm, each breath that Melih sucked in was hot, and every single nerve in his body tingled. With a loud shout of triumph, Melih spurted across Sasori’s belly, between his thighs, over his manhood, with not just one, or two, but three pumps, the final one spreading dew drops over Sasori’s red curling hair.

Sasori came shortly after, as Melih rubbed his manhood in his release, to soothe the still throbbing after orgasm bliss. Melih watched as Sasori gave a little gasp, a shudder, and then a few pearly beads sprinkled over the dark felt of Melih’s hair. Melih glanced down, amused, but Sasori’s hand was on his chest, as he lay panting from the effort.

Melih shook his hair from his shoulders, knowing that it must be standing on edge. Sasori’s hair was mussed from writhing with pleasure on the blankets, and Sasori self-consciously ran a hand through it, before burrowing back in the blankets.

Melih reached for a cloth, and wiped Sasori clean, thinking to himself that it was only considerate. He dabbed away the little pearls that Sasori had offered him, before lying down at Sasori’s side. His body felt warm with activity, and even the next blast of wind that shook the tent failed to cool him.

Sasori had grown calm in the post orgasm haze, but as he came back to himself, there was a steely, proud glint in his grey-brown eyes. Melih watched him, reaching out to touch Sasori’s face with his hand. He pulled over one of the blankets, so they were burrowed in warmth, and felt Sasori lay his head on his chest. One of Sasori’s hands wrapped across his chest, the fingers slowly trailing patterns over the plane of Melih’s skin, like a long stretch of desert, the contours of his muscles the rise and fall of dunes of sand.

Melih listened as Sasori’s breathing grew very shallow and calm, before he drifted off into the darkness.

* * *

“Mama,” said Melih, bending down to kiss Emrah on the cheek. He inhaled her scent of rose, violet and white musk, and felt her dark navy hair he had inherited tickle his chin. He offered her the bouquet of desert flowers he had picked up in the market, and followed her into the home he had bought for her.

The  _ kofte  _ were simmering away on the stove, as he knew it would be, and the spices mingled in the air. Melih closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Growing up, he and Emrah couldn’t really call their house a home, but here, breathing in the scent of Emrah’s perfume, her cooking, this was the closest he could feel to one.

He pattered from room to room while Emrah turned the pot on the stove, discreetly checking for signs of unwanted visitors. There were none, and Melih sighed with relief that his mama was safe.

They sat down to dinner opposite one another, and Emrah reached across the table and to brush her fingers across his cheek, asking him about his mission, how he was feeling, and advised him not to work too hard. They ate in silence, enjoying the flavours, before Emrah climbed up to brew the coffee and serve the dessert.

“And how was Sasori?” asked Emrah, as she laid out a plate of  _ baklava  _ before them both.

Melih swallowed, the bitter coffee stinging his throat. “He was fine.”

“Fine?” asked Emrah.

“I care for him, mama,” said Melih.

“You care for him?” asked Emrah.

“Indeed.”

Emrah reached across the table, and clutched his hand in both of hers. A silver bracelet he had bought for her jangled against some silver and sapphire bangles he had also bought her, that she wore on each wrist. “Be careful there, my darling.”

“Oh, I am,” said Melih. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I hope to introduce more of Melih's backstory in future fics, and show some more of his mama and his friends! <3


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